


besotted by blood

by alifeofourown



Category: Little Mix (Band), X Factor RPF
Genre: F/F, Serial Killers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-16
Updated: 2013-04-16
Packaged: 2017-12-08 16:32:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/763557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alifeofourown/pseuds/alifeofourown
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maybe it's just what was meant to be from the second they met.</p>
            </blockquote>





	besotted by blood

**Author's Note:**

> For Jess, thanks to V for listening to me talk about serial killers at 5am and to Frankie for telling me the Little Mix fandom needs fic. Pretty sure this isn't what they wanted, but hey, here we are!

Maybe it starts when Perrie handles the meat a little rougher than usual, or maybe it's when the knife slips from her fingers and she cuts herself, blood seeping from a small gash on her arm. Maybe it's when Leigh leans in and licks the wound clean, dot of red still on her lips as her tongue flicks back into her mouth. Maybe it's a combination of all of that, or maybe it's really none of it that leads to them standing over a screaming form, pressing a knife into their chest together.

 

Maybe it's just what was meant to be from the second they met.

 

One thing Perrie knows for sure is that they never have better sex than on nights where they share a kill, slicing up an unwilling victim into their own plaything. There's no better high than that.

 

They keep their kills far and few between, the knowledge that they quicker the succession of kills the easier it'll be to be caught. When they go out, bodies pressed together in clubs, lips inches apart from the other's, that's when they pick out their victims. Well, their victims pick themselves out in the end. It's usually the loud obnoxious ones, half-drunk and shouting, "Give us a show, ladies!" As he presses himself into their intimate moment.

 

Perrie picks them out for the most part. Leigh never protests. The scum of the earth is nothing compared to drunken men looking for women to take advantage of.

 

By the time the police finally start catching onto their trail, they've perfected their art, leave the body stripped bare, eyes sewn shut and hands cut off in a silent attempt to tell the world that they brought this on themselves.

 

No one ever talks about the hole in their chests, the one where a heart should be but never was. That stays out of the papers for the longest time and Leigh relishes in it when Perrie's doing a fry-up for dinner.

 

They know better than to keep trophies, especially since the best ones usually get caught because of their pride, but they can't help it. Leigh wanted teeth, Perrie didn't care, but they settled on the eyes. In the end it's the better choice, especially when Perrie sees the way that Leigh _looks_ when she's digging the knife into their sockets, taking away their senses as they scream their lives away.

 

The heart, though. That's a whole different story. They feast on it, high quality dining as they take it apart and feed each other. It's their ode to the men, not that they really care about them in the end since half the time they don't even learn a name. No, this is their thing, their crowning moment to say 'you tried to screw us so we stole your heart. Who's the winner now?'

 

But it's really not all that poetic in the end. Not when Leigh's crawling into Perrie's lap, pressing kisses to her lips in between pieces of the meat.

 

It's their own special reward.

 

Their first kill was a mess, a literal nightmare. They’d had no idea what they were doing and almost lost their victim in the process. Perrie’s favourite memory of it, though, is the blood being absolutely _everywhere_ and having to clean it up. Maybe it had been tedious, but the idea of pressing herself against Leigh as their victim went from unconscious to unmoving and licking a stripe up her neck to reveal skin beneath warm blood, nothing else could compare.

 

Despite it all, they had been so lost on what to do after he was gone, last breath gone and body still warm. It led to a bit of bickering as they tried to decide whether it’d be a better idea to dump the body in the river and let nature get rid of him for them or to just leave him a dumpster. In the end, they threw him in the river to save time, the morning light already peering its way through the abandoned warehouse that they’d once used as an escape from their parents. It was still surprising to them that their first kill didn’t get them caught immediately, but wherever he ended up it didn’t matter to them. No one batted their eyes in their direction, not when they came off as the least-threatening couple in the world.

 

Even their friends never expected anything of them. Not when they came off so sweet and innocent in public. They befriended the neighbours, the bouncers at the club that they stole their victims from. There were no curious stares or raised eyebrows when they came along in their too-short dresses to attract potential victims.

 

One a month had been their intial plan, just a chance to catch a proper breath in their boring, everyday lives, but work got in the way, friends got in the way and plans kept them away from their initial ones. Maybe that’s how they lasted so long, because their kills fell with no actual plan. It went from the two of them trying to stick to their plan to spontaneous planning and ‘what if we just do this?’ No one knew about where they kept their supplies stashed in the warehouse, and no one had any idea as to when they were holding their late night kills, cutting up bodies for their own entertainment.

 

They even experimented on a few of them, peeling tender flesh away to see what was beneath or carving away other features. It wasn’t for them, wasn’t as thrilling as the idea of taking their sight and sewing their blinded sockets shut, nor was it as fun as taking their hands and destroying them in their own ways. Nothing was better than when they took home the heart and cooked it in its own blood until it was so juicy and tender that it was considered a delicacy. They hid their tokens well, the jar of eyes kept beneath lock and key in a safe in their bedroom closet and the hearts quickly ingested.

 

It was perfect to them, and even more of a thrill when they finally got noticed.

 

The papers called them sight deprivers, violent criminals with no heart and a slew of psychological problems, but it’s the furthest from the truth. They don’t know what happens behind closed doors, when Perrie loves Leigh a little too hard for what would be considered normal or when Leigh takes Perrie and strips her bare, makes love to her and promises things into her skin as she enforces them with cuts and bruises.

 

Seeing the red on Perrie’s pale skin is Leigh’s favourite, but nothing will be better to Perrie than the way that bruises blossom on Leigh’s skin, deep and beautiful in ways that no one else gets to appreciate but her.

 

By the time they’ve started narrowing in on them, their eager captors finally realising that there’s more than one of them, their murder count’s in the double digits, pretty boys and their pretty bodies merely play things for the pair, their jar of eyes filling to the point that it’s probably best they don’t add more, but they’re addicted to the rush, addicted to feeling each other’s skin ignited by the thrill of killing, and they don’t want to stop.

 

Maybe they would have been safe if they had.

 

But they don’t back off. They explode, shattering dreams to fuel their own dark desires. Two kills in a week isn’t like them, isn’t good for their current standing when they’re already close to being inspected, but that doesn’t stop them. They leave the bodies closer to the warehouse than usual, don’t clean up like they should.

 

They know the end is coming, but they’re not running from it. With Perrie’s hand in Leigh’s, fingernails digging into skin, they’re prepared. No one can stop them now, just each other.

 

When the police are finally pounding on their door, they’re curled up in bed together, fingers grasped together so tightly that it hurts, but they don’t let go.

 

“Are you sure?” is all that Perrie has to say before Leigh’s nodding and they grip the pills that they’ve had for months, prepared for this situation. They won’t be taken alive, have no plans on ever being separated by a corrupt court system that would pick apart their flaws and put them on display through court cases until they’re granted life sentences.

 

No, if they’re going out, they’ll do it together.

 

It’s not poetic, falling asleep together with hands pressed tightly. It’s dirty and ugly, done to the sound of fists pounding at their door, words being shouted. It’s vile shakes and their bodies shutting down in time with the cyanide taking over, but when it’s all over, bodies still on the bed just as the police break in, they’re gone.

 

And despite it all, their hands are still intertwined, leaving the world just like they planned.

 

Together.

 


End file.
